


Always

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluffiness, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Instability, mention of medications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: Pete hasn’t come out yet, and honestly, it’s starting to worry Patrick.....(Pete's going through a Low and Patrick is there to take care of him)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flames_and_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/gifts).



> Beta'd by the beautiful [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade) Thank you for everything!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Pete hasn’t come out yet, and honestly, it’s starting to worry Patrick. Pete’s been in bed since after dinner the previous evening, silent as he picked at his Thai takeout for about a good thirty minutes, and then mumbled something under his breath about ‘taking a shower’ because he was tired. Patrick had only nodded, kissing him softly before he had disappeared up the stairs and into their room.

Patrick didn’t question it much, knowing full well that the day before was long and draining for the both of them, even the singer retiring to soft sheets, plush pillows, and the warmth of Pete’s body earlier than he normally did. However, what did make Patrick falter was the fact that he had woken up to Pete’s back, when the other man’s side of the bed was normally vacant, Pete being an earlier riser than Patrick ever was.

But it had been 11:20am, and Pete had yet to waken, only toss and turn.

It’s been three hours since then, Patrick dressed, showered, and working, and yet no sign of Pete.

This…this didn’t seem right

There’s usually a buzzing around the house, a feel in the space that sits ‘right,’ that everything is okay. Patrick can’t really describe it, he never has been able to, but it’s safe to say that today just feels ‘off,’ as if their universe is off-kilter.

He noticed it began yesterday, the slight slump in the bassist’s shoulders during their management meeting, the way Pete would ‘zone out’ at times, and the fact that Pete’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Pete had blamed it on the stress when others inquired, worried about him.

_“_ _I just had a rough night…I didn’t get much sleep.”_

But Patrick knows now that it might be more than that.

Hell, the fact that _Patrick_ , who is notorious for sleeping past noon, is up before Pete is reason in and of itself to justify the singer’s concern.

Patrick looks down at the work on his laptop and saves it without so much as a second thought, shutting his laptop off afterwards and making his way towards the kitchen.

From one of the cabinets, Patrick reaches for the three orange-tinted pill bottles, carefully reading each of the names before putting one, a sleep aid, back on the shelf. Patrick re-reads the other two, even though he’s fairly confident he could recite the names, the milligrams, and the dosages by heart. He doesn’t care, instead, he looks at the refill date, does a quick count of days in his head, and then carefully pours the contents of one of the tubes  onto the counter, counting each pill to make sure the proper amount is in each bottle before placing it to the side, and repeating the process with the other, but leaving two pills out on the counter. It’s an old habit from their van days, when Pete had entrusted the guys with his meds, making sure he never took more than his doctor had recommended. To keep track of the pills, always making sure there was never more or less than what the older boy _should_ have.

Over the last six years, Pete’s never had a problem with taking his medication, whether he’s at home or on the tour. It’s the first thing he takes every morning and routinely at night, so there was no real reason to be counting his pills, but Patrick couldn’t help it, he does it from time to time whether Pete’s present or not.

_“_ _You know, someone else would say that you don’t trust me by you counting my meds…”_

_“_ _I hear a ‘but’ coming…”_

_“_ _But…” Pete draws the word out as he watches Patrick count his pills on the tour bus as he’s sipping a fresh cup of sugar-ladled coffee._ _“_ _I see it as an endearment.”_

_Patrick smirks as he finishes, placing the lid back on the bottle._ _“_ _It’s cause I love you, you idiot.”_

_“_ _I know, I love you too. I love that you’re watching out for me.”_

Once he was satisfied with his work, Patrick placed the prescription bottles back in their proper place and grabbed a bottled water for the fridge. Turning off the lights, he makes his way up the stairs to their bedroom, three pills cradled in the palm of his hand.

When he arrives at the door, he sees that he’s not alone in his concern for Pete. Bowie looks up at Patrick with two mismatched eyes, his tail wagging happily at the sight of him as he lays at the foot of the closed door.

“You worried about him too, huh, boy?” Patrick asks softly to the white husky, who simply responds by placing his head on his two front paws, his fluffy ears laying flat on his head with a soft whine. “Yeah, I know, let’s go see if we can cheer him up.”

Patrick opens the door, letting Bowie enter first and curl into a comfortable ball at near the bed as the younger musician walks in, his eyes settling on the lump under the covers. With a soft sigh, Patrick makes his way to the other side of the bed, where Pete is, shirtless but bundled in covers and looking blankly at the wall before him.

“Pete,” Patrick calls out softly, sitting down beside him, placing his medications and bottled water on the nightstand. There’s no response, so he calls his name out again, letting his fingers card through unwashed hair. The gentle motion must stir something within Pete, causing him to snap out of his reverie gently, and his eyes come up to focus on Patrick.

“Hey, come on, let’s take your meds, okay? You don’t have to get out of bed, but you do need to sit up for me for a bit…” Patrick coaxes, letting his knuckles brush against the rough stubble on Pete’s cheeks.

Pete nods slowly and manages to sit up as Patrick moves closer, grabbing the pills and water bottle  from the nightstand and giving them both to Pete. Pete eye’s the pills with an unreadable expression and then tosses them into his mouth and swallows them dry. He cracks open the bottle of water and takes a good couple of sips, drinking a little more with Patrick’s encouragement. He stays seated upright when he caps the bottle and lets it sit in his comforter covered lap.

“I’m sorry,” Pete says softly, avoiding Patrick’s eyes, his voice rough from disuse.

Patrick shakes his head, before opening his arms up slightly. “Come here,” he whispers, and he sees Pete’s face crumble as he falls into his embrace. His best friend wraps his arms tightly around his waist, burying his face in his neck, and Patrick can feel a damp spot beginning to form on his collar. “It’s okay, I got you.” The younger man lowers them both down onto the bed, allowing Pete to tuck himself under his chin and brings up guitar-calloused fingers to massage the nape of his neck, his other arm wrapping around his back, holding him impossibly close.

“I’m sorry,” he hears against his collarbone, Pete’s breaths coming out shakily, his body trembling slightly with every inhale and exhale, holding onto Patrick like his life depended on it. Sometimes he swears it does… “I’m sorry for being fucked up, I just can’t hide it today.”

“You’re not fucked up. Don’t be sorry,” Patrick says gently, kissing the crown of his head, the singer’s voice holding no room for argument. “You’re low, and I know you can’t help it. It’s okay.” Patrick knows that when Pete’s like this, he won’t talk much—he’ll break down  and allow himself to get lost in the buzzing of his head. Pete can’t control this aspect of his mind, but Patrick knows all too well that when he gets like this, he feels like a burden, like a waste of space, and Patrick will always try to make him see otherwise. “I love you.”

Pete doesn’t speak, and neither does Patrick, as they hold each other. Patrick alternates between drawing designs and phrases like “I love you” and “ It’s okay” on Pete's naked back with his fingertips, and massaging his scalp. After a long while, the silence is broken when Pete speaks once more, his voice sounding soft and unsure. “Stay with me?”

Patrick kisses his forehead, his arms tightening around the older man, Bowie joining them on the bed at Patrick’s command, placing his white-furred head on Pete’s covered calves.

“Always, Pete… Always.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A huge shout-out to the amazing [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade) for Beta-ing this fic, and for also writing another amazing one-shot inspired by this one! Seriously go and read it, it's beautiful. <3 Thank you, Dearest, from the bottom of my heart for listening to my rambles and inspiring me to keep writing! -hugs- 
> 
> Possible more one-shots to come between "In the Breaking", "CoffeeShop Au" and "Come and Save Me" updates....?
> 
> I think yes...
> 
> And as always, feedback, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!
> 
> -Xoxo


End file.
